


Crook

by howterrifying



Series: The Denial Mode Series [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: Sherlock and Molly relearn the definitions of right and wrong.(written 15 Jan 2015)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: The Denial Mode Series [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732471
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Crook

**Author's Note:**

> The Denial Mode Series began in the midst of me struggling to get through my soap opera of a multi-chapter fic, The Admirer. In between, as a sort of refresher, and also as my way of ‘denying’ I had stuff to work on, I would call out for these prompts. The call was to either send me a single word or a single song. I received all sorts of lovely responses and these are the stories that developed from them. They mean a lot to me and I remember every single one of them from just looking at their titles. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them. :) x
> 
> ::
> 
> ordinarilygraceful asked: If you still have room for a prompt Love Love Love by Of Monsters and Men :)
> 
> Such a beautiful song! And yes, there was room for one more prompt. Your prompt was the tenth, which marks the end of my denial mode series. Thank you for your prompt, and I hope I did the song justice! :) xx

**Crook**

  
“Has anyone seen Molly?” Mary asked walking over to John and Sherlock who were, rather unusually, having a decent conversation.   
  
John shook his head and turned to Sherlock to see if he knew. The detective merely shrugged his shoulders, looking away from Mary as he took a sip from his wine glass.   
  
“What do you need her for?” Sherlock asked casually, his eyes scanning the restaurant.   
“Well, she’s supposed to be popping the champagne with Tom in about…five minutes,” Mary said, glancing at her watch, “This _is_ their engagement party after all.”   
“It wouldn’t be one without her, would it…” John joked, only to earn a raised eyebrow from Mary and a smirk from Sherlock.   
“No, it wouldn’t,” Sherlock replied, downing the rest of his wine before walking away.   
  
Mary and John stared after the tall, retreating figure of Sherlock Holmes and wondered where he was headed. However, they shrugged their shoulders and carried on looking for the missing fiancée.   
  
Sherlock made his way through the guests, hoards of unimportant people gathered in the tiny restaurant that had been booked for the occasion and heaved a sigh of relief when he pushed through the doors that led to the kitchen. The guests were suffocating, and he questioned the wisdom of having agreed to come down at all. It was quiet, or at least much quieter than it was outside. It certainly was less insufferable than being outside, having to _socialise_. Nobody in the kitchen paid any attention to this outsider without an apron on.   
  
“Now, let’s see if I’m right…” the detective muttered to himself.   
  
Sherlock wove past lines of bent backs, occasionally encountering an impatient _Oy!_ when he accidentally got in the way of a chef or server. At last, he found what he was looking for. It was virtually silent now, as he pushed through the clear, plastic curtain.   
  
All he could hear was the hiss of cold air and the hum of machinery. It was a bit chilly, but not unbearable. Sherlock rubbed his hands and slowly walked towards the cluster of large meat freezers. Sherlock looked left and right as he walked through the narrow aisle between freezers when just then, he spotted a yellow flower, sticking out from behind a low, white freezer. He smirked and walked towards the flower.   
  
“They’re looking for you,” he said, moving to sit beside the huddled figure of Molly Hooper. She hugged her knees so tight that the skin of her knuckles was stretched white.   
“Oh,” was all she could say. She kept her eyes forward, not acknowledging Sherlock’s figure beside her.   
  
Sherlock, knowing where he was headed, had brought his scarf with him. Gently, he draped it around Molly who had gone a little pale from the chilly air-conditioning.   
  
“Feels a bit like Bart’s, doesn’t it?” he remarked quietly, taking care to keep her ponytail out of the scarf’s loop.   
“Is that how you knew I’d be here?” she asked, turning to him at least. There was a small smile on her face and it pleased the detective.   
“I always know where to find you, Molly Hooper,” he said, leaning his head against the metal.   
“I’ll be sure to give Tom your number, in case I ever go missing,” she said with a wry laugh.   
“You could go missing now,” Sherlock suggested.   
“Am I not already missing?” she asked, turning to Sherlock.   
“Well, now that I’ve found you, I suppose the right thing to do is to get you back in there,” he said wistfully.   
“Since when did you care about doing the right thing?” Molly remarked, smirking. “You’re practically a crook in detective’s clothing.”   
  
The detective sat up and turned to look at Molly. As she stared at him, wide-eyed, a small smile began to appear on his face.   
  
“What?” she asked.   
“You’re right.” he said.   
“About?”   
“Doing the right thing,” he answered.   
  
Sherlock stood up and extended his hand to Molly, pulling her up to her feet as well.   
  
“Never has _not_ doing the right thing, felt like the most right thing to do,” he said with a grin.   
  
He took Molly’s hand and began to walk with his head looking up, searching for something in the ceiling.   
  
“A-ha,” he whispered in delight.   
  
Sherlock reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette and his light. With a quick flick of the lighter, he was puffing away in the cold room they were in. Molly stared at him, puzzled, while he smoked like a chimney.   
  
“Sherlock, why are you—”   
  
She was interrupted when a loud bell screeched through the building and jets of water gushed out from above them.   
  
“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and rushing out of the building. They ran and ran until they ran out of street and ended up at a dead end with only a few empty bins for company.   
  
“Molly Hooper, your engagement is over,” he said, wiping the drops of water from his eyes.   
“You can’t just…remove me from my engagement party like that, Sherlock Holmes!” Molly exclaimed, half flustered, half amused.   
  
He laughed and moved to kiss her, undeterred by the water that dripped down their faces and mingled between their lips. Sherlock had no intention of being interrupted - ever again.   
  
“Yes, I can, Molly Hooper,” he said, watching as she burst into laughter and rushed into his arms, “Yes, I can.”

**END**


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